Office Hours
by Supreme Distraction
Summary: Hermione blinked, returning to reality just in time to see her sternly-frowning Transfiguration professor dismiss her best friend, Harry Potter, and round on her, gesturing for the brilliant young Gryffindor to follow her into the private office located towards the rear of the classroom. "A word with you, please, Miss Granger. *Now*."


Happy Thanksgiving, all! Hopefully you've got loved ones and good food to appreciate on this tasty holiday. Even if you don't celebrate, here's a little something from **Distraction** ;D

**Disclaimer**: As you're likely aware, I am not J.K Rowling. That being said, I do not own _Harry Potter._

_**lll**_

Hermione Granger tucked her fist underneath her jaw and jiggled her foot impatiently underneath her desk, dark eyes intent on the black-robed witch at the head of the classroom. She was getting along in her years, her primly coiffed hair a mousy gray, but the beauty in her features was still evident despite the disapproving frown that typically graced thin lips.

Minerva McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor.

To the average observer, the studious brunette was enraptured by what the matronly woman was saying, but that was as far from the truth as one could possibly get. Instead, that brilliant mind was flooded by scores of lewd, inappropriate situations—all of which revolved around the educator that paced the front of the spacious lecture hall.

The foot-tapping doubled in pace and the young Gryffindor wriggled, opening her notebook and closing it again without even bothering to try and focus on the neatly written notes within. There was really no use when her hormones were running rampant.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione blinked, returning to reality just in time to see her sternly-frowning Transfiguration professor dismiss her best friend, Harry Potter, and round on her, gesturing for the brilliant young Gryffindor to follow her into the private office located towards the rear of the classroom. Class was over, it seemed—when had that happened? "A word with you, please, Miss Granger. _Now."_

Harry shot his Housemate an apologetic look as he gave a little wave and exited the room, intent on getting to the dining hall before the lunch rush officially started. Which meant the witches were alone.

The younger of the duo took a steadying breath and rose from her seat, a spike of relief shooting through her at the way her trembling legs actually managed to carry her weight. She moved slowly, carefully, across the classroom and past Minerva, who held open the door to her office, her mind awhirl. The brunette barely registered the sound of the door closing or the hum of power as the charm that rendered the room soundproof and impossible to enter from the outside activated over the rush of her heartbeat in her ears and she shivered as the tall, regal woman brushed past her.

"Assume the position, Hermione."

'_Hermione'_—not 'Miss Granger' or, when the woman was particularly wrathful, just 'Granger.'

Wet heat suffused the throbbing apex of slender thighs and Hermione swallowed hard as she went obediently over to an innocuous wooden stool sitting in front of the Transfiguration professor's desk, butterflies fluttering about in her stomach as she bent over and hitched up the hem of her robes to reveal the pale curve of her arse to the bright green gaze of her mentor.

This position—submissive, vulnerable; her private flesh presented to the woman who made it slick and hot—was a familiar one and yet it never failed to make the young witch tremble with barely-restrained desire.

"My, my… No knickers? It seems you were prepared for this." The disapproval in the older witch's voice made the young woman's inner muscles clench in anticipation. "What am I going to do with you?"

Several debauched answers came to mind, but the young woman knew better than to voice any of them. Instead she remained silent, her body growing hot despite the drafty sensation created by the bareness of her lower half. The hand on her hip made her jump and it drew slow, sensual circles as its twin caressed the curve of a pale cheek.

"If you'd stop undressing me with your eyes during class, I wouldn't have to discipline you," the older woman tutted. That hand slid lower, her fingertips brushing against slick pink lips, slightly swollen with arousal and Hermione whimpered. "You're already so wet… Just what were you daydreaming about today?"

The brunette shuddered, her hips bucking as the gray-haired witch came around to stand in front of her. A single finger hooked under her chin, forcing dark brown eyes to meet swiftly darkening green ones.

"I'd rather show you…" It was difficult, after all, to come up with coherent statements what with the way her mind was melting.

"None of that." The woman's voice was a shade huskier than it had been a moment ago, but the stern set of her shoulders didn't waver. "Now, are you going to behave or will I have to gag you?"

She lowered her gaze meekly, holding her breath as she silently prayed that the Head of Gryffindor wasn't feeling particularly cruel. Sometimes, the older witch left her waiting—aching and desperate—for hours before sending an owl to call her back to this private little world they had created and _fucking her brains out_. The end result was well worth the frustration, but Hermione didn't think she could make it through her school day if Minerva didn't soothe the ache between her thighs—especially considering how worked up she already was.

The hand beneath her chin released its hold and the educator strode out of view once again, the hem of her long robe rustling against the tiled floor, the brunette's heart sank.

"Profess—_Ah!_" Whatever desperate plea she had intended to utter trailed off into a throaty moan as something broad and flat came into contact with her bottom with enough force to make the stool's legs scrape against the marble. A hot spike of pain pleasure shot along her spine to pool at the apex of her legs and Hermione arched her back, presenting her rear for more "punishment." Her request did not go unheeded: the wooden paddle made contact with her arse once…

_Gasp._

…Twice…

_Moan._

…Three times…

And after the fourth there was a loud clatter as the object fell to the floor. Without warning, long fingers thrust past the lips of her sex—four, all the way to the knuckle—and filled her to the brim, the exquisite sensation of her inner muscles being stretched making her eyes roll back in her head.

Merlin's beard, she was already going to explode.

Minerva chuckled, the rich, suggestive tone only serving to make the young Gryffindor's core to burn hotter, and curled her fingers, hitting a spot deep within Hermione's sex that sent an explosive wave of pleasure through her slender form and tore a scream from her throat. Hermione's inner muscles clenched, wringing as much pleasure from the intruders as they could, and she pressed her hips back to meet the digits that plumbed her depths, a litany of lewd sounds leaving her.

The soft, wet sound of each deep thrust into silken heat filled the office, punctuated by the ecstatic moans of the dark-haired witch, and it wasn't long before Hermione went stock-still, shuddering as orgasm swept through her with enough force to make her see stars. When finally she had managed to gather her senses, the girl realized that her professor was stroking her hair away from her sweaty temple, the fingers that were still buried within her flexing slowly, gently easing her down from her climax.

As the Head of the Gryffindor House removed long, talented digits entirely, the brunette's bottom lip protruded and her eyebrows drew together. The delicious ache between her thighs was addicting; she wanted—no, _needed_ more.

The older witch smiled affectionately, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to pouting lips. She drew her wand from her pocket and, with a softly muttered spell, tidied the mess she had made. Finally, she cleared her throat and remarked, "If you don't hurry you'll miss lunch, dear. Run along."

Sighing her disappointment, the brunette straightened up and righted her clothing. She stole one more lingering kiss before heading towards the door.

"And Miss Granger?"

Hermione halted mid-step, nearly tripping over herself as she whirled to face the older woman, her hand still on the doorknob. "Yes, Professor?"

A small, playful smile curved thin lips. "I expect to see you before class tomorrow."

The red hue that spread across the girl's face made its way down her neck and up her ears as she grinned radiantly. "I'll see you then… _Minerva_."

And then she hurried off—as though the hem of her robe was on fire.


End file.
